


33 Bars

by statesofuncertainty



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, I was bored and this is what I came up with, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Soulmates, mention of a practice similar to cutting but very different, soul mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 19:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/statesofuncertainty/pseuds/statesofuncertainty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baring ones wrist had always been considered an act of trust and something only shared between close friends and loved ones. The pale pink capillaries that rose and fell, forming the short neat rows of tiny bars that sometimes glowed or flickered forming an invisible tie to what the ancients had called a 'soul mate'. It was difficult to not believe in a perfect match when every time you stretched out your arm you were showed the evidence of your 'other half.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	33 Bars

Baring ones wrist had always been considered an act of trust and something only shared between close friends and loved ones. The pale pink capillaries that rose and fell, forming the short neat rows of tiny bars that sometimes glowed or flickered forming an invisible tie to what the ancients had called a 'soul mate'. It was difficult to not believe in a perfect match when every time you stretched out your arm you were showed the evidence of your 'other half.'

 

Most children were born with a varying number of little bars which rather resembled tally marks but without every fifth bar lying horizontally, instead a few neat rows of 4mm long dashes equally spaced out. Since this evolutionary trait had surfaced in the ancient world, mathematicians had adjusted the length of one year to equal the time that it took to for one bar to fade and disappear, once every 345 days, and always on the date of their birth. Only the final bar was unpredictable, depending when you met your soul mate. The last bar could fade the on the 344th day of it being alone on the underside of your wrist or on the very day your second last one faded, or anywhere in between.

 

Doctors would record the number of bars that decorated the skin of a newborn. Parents would breathe a sigh of relief when the number was less then 35, but be seriously concerned and deeply saddened when their newborn would have to wait more then the average 30 years. Occasionally children would be born with 60 or sometimes even 80 bars. One record breaking number had been a child born with 103 bars; she had committed suicide in her teens. Who wanted to know that they would be alone for 103 years?

 

Children happily watched movies in which the pretty princess who had seen 19 bars fade, one every year, had just felt a slight burning on her wrist only to realize that the last bar was glowing a dark red just before disappearing almost instantly. Breaths would be held in anticipation as they watched the princess look up and finally recognize that the young man who stood before he floating on a magic carpet holding out his hand, was really her soul mate with whom she would be perfectly happy.

 

John knew better then that. Children could be coerced to believe that it was always so easy and simple but as every teenager found out- the bars weren't always there. Stress and hormones played havoc with the bars and even though most adults and most children had a bar fade every year on the date of their birth until the day they found their soul mate, the bars could fade during times of deep depression and not reappear until the person had recovered. It was well known that cutting through the skin on and near the bars released a calming hormone which could relieve stress and even bring a happy feeling to the mind of a troubled youth. People who were unhappy or depressed would often find themselves addicted to the natural chemicals that flowed through their bodies after slitting the skin above the bars. The high levels of blood in the skin above the bars resulted in special nerve connections to the brain which if stimulated would release 'happy chemicals' in the brain allowing the person several days of light heartedness; but such activities easily lead to the permanent disappearance of the bars and the loss of the only natural soul mate detector they possessed. Such people were unofficially known as the 'lost ones' and as a doctor, John had seen a great deal more lost ones then any regular human being. Namely because the loss of bars and addiction to calming chemicals often lead to family disputes and drug habits which resulted in a higher percentage being admitted into hospitals for observation.

 

Bars would sometimes fade when a person was nearing depression. The great scientists had mostly all agreed that this too was an evolutionary trait as to prevent the person from seeking the hormonal comfort found only when the bars were visible. John had not seen his bars since being invalided from Afghanistan. He wasn't surprised but it was still disappointing that the tiny pale lines were no longer etched into his inner wrist.

 

Some people had more then one soul mate and as people changed sometimes their first soul mate was no longer their perfect partner and so they would awaken to discover a new set of bars slowly gaining in intensity after a happy 4 years of marriage to their first soul mate. This always lead to nasty arguments and shattered lives but no one was willing to forgo meeting a new soul mate, especially when their husband or wife had become different from the person they had married. Harry Watson had been a perfect example of such a person. Clara had been a perfect match for well over 7 years but Harry's drinking took a turn for the worse and she had awoken one morning to discover a new set of bars upon Clara's slim wrist. John was thankful that he had had no part in the ensuing argument and the heartbroken drinking spree that had wound up with Harry in a coma. He had been in Afghanistan and it had been too risky to allow him to return home. He had gotten shot less then a day later so he did get to visit Harry soon after her recovery, that had been the day she had practically chucked Clara's anniversary gift at him, John didn't complain; he had wanted a phone and Harry's old one was better then what he could afford on a measly army pension. The phone had landed in his out stretched hand sending an unusual sensation through to the underside of his wrist, as soon as he had left Harry John had checked his wrist to see if the bars had returned but his wrist was still bare.

 

Some people were born without a set of bars and they had been nicknamed the 'Forgottens.' Forgottens would often be teased and bullied about the fact that they could never tell when they would fall in love, and nobody likes knowing that they might never be loved. Those with regular bars could often feel the pain or joy of their soul mate even if they hadn't met yet, Forgottens were unable to have any such connections but they could emit emotions to their soul mate as long as that soul mate was not also a Forgotten. More common then the Forgottens were the 'lates' the lates were those who appeared to be one of the Forgottens and were unable to sense the emotions of their soul mate, but would suddenly find their wrist glowing with bars. Being a late was the only hope a Forgotten ever had, but Forgottens often did manage to find a person whose bars disappeared while meeting them, so it was often assumed that they were soul mates, even if only one of them had the bars to prove it.

............................

Sherlock Holmes was considered a Forgotten. Lates only appeared between the ages of 12-23 and at 29 Sherlock was well used to the idea of being condemned to a life of waiting to be found by his soul mate. However he had no use of a soul mate who would not contribute to his work, having a soul mate would be distracting and he doubted that it would be worth the trouble. Victor Trevor had been his only attempt at a relationship, Victor had seven bars left on his wrist and being 23 he was not going to wait seven whole years without having a few flings with his equally impatient peers. Sherlock had arrested his attention when Victor had been forced to physically pull his dog off Sherlock's arm, tearing off the sleeve in the process. Victor had apologized and then seeing his bare wrist asked Sherlock jokingly to not set his soul mate after him and his dog, Sherlock had corrected him saying he was a Forgotten and Victor had taken it upon himself to see if perhaps a bit of snogging could kick start Sherlock's bars. Sherlock had been 22 and had studied cases in which Forgottens had become Lates through a sudden shock or even sexual stimulation. And Sherlock being Sherlock meant he had to experiment on himself.

 

The unimpressive results lead to a permanent deletion of that week and a complete renovation of his mind tower, turning it into a mind palace (height was an inefficient way to layout such a grand mind map, a Palace would allow for more wide spread floors and more surface area to store his new collection of different types of soil.). Victor was forgotten and any experiences shared with him were no longer memories he could retrieve having deleted every last detail, especially the 'unimportant' detail of his heavy heartedness when nothing Victor did to him managed to start up his bars, and his complete and utter dismay at what that meant.

................................

John had fallen asleep in his bedsit holding Harry's phone mid-text message. It had been a long hard day and it seemed that every new day brought even more unbearable loneliness. The only thing that kept him from using the illegal firearm he kept under the bed on himself was the knowledge that before he had been shot there had been 2 bars left on his wrist. 2 bars meant two years and since then he had passed his birthday so that meant that he had one bar left and so he would likely meet his soul mate within the next few months. His therapist kept asking him to find a purpose in life, and John simply couldn't. His hands shook like he had Parkinson's disease and that meant he was not fit for surgery, while working in anyplace that was not a war zone made him feel sick. He wasn't any good at civilian life, he needed the adrenaline and the stress to survive, and London was not a war zone.

 

Working as a doctor John knew how truly tragic loosing a soul mate was. The sick soul mate would pass away from Cancer or a similar illness with their other half holding their hand, the mate who was left behind would double over in pain as their wrist burned and seemed to gain a few kilograms of weight before either going blank or eventually showing a new set of bars indicating the hope for the future. Sometimes there would be no one else and the wrist would ache in cold weather and the skin would peel and crack. John had been on duty in Afghanistan bandaging an ankle when suddenly the woman’s body had gone rigid and she had looked at her wrist which had 4 bars etched into it and she had watched them fade just as gunfire sounded in the distance. 14 dead, 7 locals 3 Americans and 4 British soldiers lay dead, most of them already blank by the time John and the rest of his medical team got their hands on the dead and injured; but one ginger haired man had 4 bars which were just beginning to fade. The bars suddenly disappeared as the woman with the bandaged ankle picked up his limp wrist and saw that she was too late. She had sat quietly crying as John passed her some tissues.

 

“We probably would have met back home in London...... probably at some activity for the recently discharged.....I could have waited four years....His name was Robin....I always liked that name........reminded me of my grandfather who loved watching the birds...”

 

She had still been mid babble when her wrist burned and a new set of bars appeared. It seemed almost insensitive of her body to rewire so quickly, and the insult of such a quick recovery made her cry even harder.

 

Such things happened comparatively often, and watching a random person collapse on the tube clutching their wrist was something he had seen many more times then necessary. At such a time everyone makes the same expression that combines a sudden feeling of loneliness with shock and heart wrenching sadness for what might have been.

....................................

Sherlock helped Molly pull the plastic off the corpse of an older man, folding the plastic inadvertently pulled Molly's sleeves back exposing her tiny wrists one of which had a clear three bars showing on her pale skin. To Sherlock's trained eye it was obvious that Molly's first soul mate had died before they had met when Molly had been in her first year of university, that event had shattered her self confidence and she had spent the last several years recovering from that loss. She must know Sherlock is not her soul mate but crushes happen and Molly can't help who her brain finds attractive. Sherlock quietly scoffs and turns his full attention to the corpse silently willing Molly to meet her soul mate quickly so she will stop annoying him with her advances.

 

Sherlock knew that he wasn't truly a Forgotten just like he knew he wasn't really a sociopath, he had been 6 years old and laying in bed reading late one night when mid paragraph he felt suddenly a sickening sense of pain and over whelming loneliness, it was so over whelming that for the first time since he was a toddler he sought out his parents room and quietly slipped in between his mother and father's sleeping forms. His mother had been very surprised to find her very young but also very independent son curled up beside her, and when she had questioned him Sherlock had only muttered.

 

“Car accident. It was bad, his grandparents are now gone, boy about 10 was dead but the doctors made him better.” before falling back to sleep.

 

A similar sensation had happened to him only a few months ago while he had been interrogating a witness.

 

“And what on earth makes you believe that I am stupid enough to think that you are telling me the truth!”

 

“I AM NOT LYING!” said the witness

 

“Ha. Well fortunately for me and unfortunately for you I........”

 

“Sherlock?” Asked Lestrade as he suddenly saw the tall lean man who had been so focused a second earlier, look up into the distance, sway and grab his left shoulder as if in pain.

 

“What the hell is wrong with him?” asked the witness; her tone expressing both anger and accidental concern.

 

“Sherlock!” Lestrade grabbed Sherlock's arm and steadied him.

 

Sherlock blinked and refocused before shaking Lestrade off and stumbling into a near by chair.

 

“Sherlock do you want some water? When did you last eat?” Lestrade's concern was only met with a sharp glare and a wave of Sherlock's hand.

 

“I am fine Lestrade. Some idiot just got shot in the shoulder and because 'mother nature' has a bloody sense of humour, I have to share that bastard's pain.” Sherlock hid his real concern under a few layers of disdain and anger all the while considering the fact that if is 'soul mate' was getting shot at maybe he or possibly 'she' wasn't a regular boring idiot like most of the earth's population. However he must be a real idiot for allowing himself to get shot. The point of having a gun is to terminate others lives not have yours ended by them. Sherlock refocused on the woman infront of him.

 

“Now, Ms Laque. You seem to forget that you were visiting your aunt last Sunday, So there is no possible way that you could have seen the ring in action. I have CCTV records of your aunt's street and you didn't leave until 3pm and from the angle the house is at there is no way you could have seen the W.A.L.R.U.S without standing on the porch, and the CCTV records show that you did no such thing. I am asking you again. Where. Did. You. Actually. See the WALRUS?”

 

It wasn't until Sherlock returned to his small room in Montague street that he saw the deep purple bruise that had formed over his left shoulder. He felt a bit light headed, even though he had eaten two days earlier..... that probably meant that the idiot who had gotten shot had lost a lot of blood but must be in recovery going by the faint sense of 'its going to be alright' that was currently flooding over him. This soul mate business was ridiculous. He would definitively benefit from being a full blooded 'Forgotten.'

..........................

John awoke still clutching the cellphone with the half completed text message his hand warm and buzzing from holding the phone. He finished typing out the message before adding a quick apology to Harry for falling asleep on her and hit send. John shook his hand to get the circulation going but even after a minute it was still vibrating. Strange. Harry's phone often did make his hand vibrate... maybe there actually was some bases to the cellphones cause cancer rumours....John lifted his hand to his face and the sleeve of the jumper that he had fallen asleep in rolled down to expose a single faded red bar.

 

............................  
Sherlock gripped the riding crop and whipped the corpse enthusiastically, partly to complete his experiment and also partly to play to Molly's well hidden kink for such things.....Molly was always so cooperative when she was lost in her unimportant and obvious fantasies, and that was good because otherwise she would not allow him to do half the things he gets away with doing in her morgue.

 

...........................  
John had left his small room for a slow walk in the park. He would rather have a brisk walk, but biology had decided to give him a psychosomatic limp so he had no choice. The reappearance of the red bar was promising, and going by the throb it gave every time his heart beat he would probably meet his soul mate very soon.

 

“John? John Watson?” he heard a familiar voice call

 

Oh shit. There was no one he knew that he wanted to be his soul mate.

Wait. It was the voice of one of his old Bart's friends.

He stopped and slowly willing himself to not find himself face to face with his soul mate he turned to see the man who had called his name.

 

“Mike Stamford. We went to Bart's together.” Mike held out his hand

John swore under his breath. He had always hoped for a pretty woman with brown hair and an easy smile, and he was not about to go gay for Mike bloody Stamford. John glanced at the hand and with a quick “what the hell” gripped it and to his relief the throbbing sensation remained the same and John silently thanked his lucky stars.

 

Mike had always been an intelligent awkward and over weight student, but he did have a very professorly look and John thought that the medical students were very lucky to have him as a teacher.

 

“Oh come on! Who would want me for a flat mate?”

 

“Ha. You are the second person to say that to me today.”

 

John's ears perked and he felt the throb in his wrist get stronger

 

“And who was the first?” He asked carefully schooling his tone.

 

“I can introduce you two, but if you do decide to flat share I want you to tell me all about it.” Mike smirked then stood up readjusting his shirt and pulling at his belt.

 

“Come on John, this is the most entertainment I am going to have all day.” Mike extended his hand and John conscience of his single red bar mildly shook his head and leaned heavily on his cane.

 

“Who is this person? Guy? Girl? And what is so exciting about the introduction?” John asked slightly anxious and with every step that he took towards the laboratory. He couldn't help it because his heart seemed to be made out of lead and his blood felt like quick silver. By the time he reached the front door his wrist could hardly hold the cane he leaned on.

 

“The person you are about to meet is a complete nut case and I am not telling you anything else, it would spoil my fun.” Mike grinned. John rolled his eyes.

...................

John's parents had met as soul mates in a pub when they were both 24, his mother had always told him how anxious she had been for months because she had been down to her final bar and had been for several months. She had told him about how every step she took towards that pub that day had made her blood freeze in her veins and how her friends had been worried but they quickly understood when suddenly she had frozen on the spot when she had brushed against the shoulder of a young man who was calling for another pint.

 

His grandparents had met in childhood but as they grew up they changed resulting in them becoming each others soul mates, apparently his grandfather had fallen off his bike and a kind young girl had helped him up, the instant their hands had touched they had known. In later years they had grown apart but through therapy they had once again become the soul mates they had once been.

 

There were stories told of such perfect soul mates that the moment one entered the country the other lived in, they found each other just by following their sense of 'must' as they called it. Shakespeare had written the most famous 'must' story. Romeo walked by the grand house which Juliet had just moved into and he felt a sense that he must enter the party being held to welcome the family even though he should have avoided it at all costs. Although John thought it was all hilariously romanticized he couldn't deny that he felt and incredibly strong desire to get into the elevator that Mike was holding for him and he felt that even without Mike there he would still be able to find the laboratory Mike had mentioned just by following the great sense of need that he felt rushing through him.

 

...................  
Sherlock blinked hard and tried again for the fourth time to focus. There was something wrong. The air was like granite in his lungs and his his normally cool skin was beginning to get covered in a thin sheet of sweat. In a word it was unbearable. He twirled the pipette in his suddenly clammy hands and gave his head a quick shake before settling down to continue his analysis for Lestrade, it would be the final bit of evidence required to close the case and perhaps once he had finished he could concentrate on fixing whatever it was that his body was currently struggling with.

 

His train of thought was yet again interrupted by the sound of what he quickly deduced was Mike Stamford's annoyingly squeaky shoes and another mans foot steps, going by the pattern of feet fall it seemed the man had a limp and was using a cane, perhaps if the lab wasn't so sound proof he would be able to tell which leg was injured. Before Sherlock could try to deduce anything else the door opened.

 

.....................  
A tall thin man was leaning against the laboratory counter holding a pipette so naturally that it seemed to be part of him.

 

“Ah Mike can I borrow your phone?” asked the stranger

 

“No, sorry it must be in my other coat” said Mike apologetically

 

“Here use mine.” said John without really meaning it, but he held out Harry's phone nevertheless and watched as long slender fingers reached out for it.

 

In the split second that both their hands were touching the phone the room seemed to fill with electricity and as if they were both being electrocuted, they both tightened their grip on the smart phone that connected the two of them. To say that time stopped and the earth paused in it solar orbit would be cliche, but it is exactly what happened. Sherlock Holmes, mad genius, Forgotten, and self proclaimed sociopath was frozen in time his eyes slowly meeting the eyes of the former army medic, who likewise was unable to do anything but stare at the collection of atoms and molecules that made up the stranger who stared back at him.

 

Mike watched in confusion wondering what on earth had happened to Sherlock. He always enjoyed listening to Sherlock deduce everything about everyone and he had been looking forward to seeing John's confused face, but the two seemed to be in a sort of trance.......Oh. This was going to be even better then he thought!

 

“A-Afganistan or Iraq?” Sherlock managed after regaining some of his senses and taking the phone which they had been holding. It was taking all of his self control to not reach out and actually touch the skin of the shorter man who he had heard Mike introduce as John Watson.

 

“Afghanistan, sorry but how did you know?” John answered after a few seconds

 

Mike smiled, this is the part he always enjoyed.

 

Sherlock was on the verge of answering when a mouse like woman entered the lab with a cup of coffee only to be insulted before she made a hasty retreat

 

“How do I know? More importantly what do I know?” The stranger looked at John

 

“I know that you are an army medic recently discharged from Afghanistan, you have a sister who had found a soul mate but her drinking drove them so far apart that Clara found a new soul mate. Your sister was in hospital soon after the divorce probably due to binge drinking. Your have a psychosomatic limp that would be cured with a bit of excitement. You were shot in the left shoulder on the 5th of March this year at 3pm London time and you lost the majority of your blood. It is possible the situation was made worse by flash backs to the car accident which killed both your grandparents both of whom you watched bleed out due to flying shards of glass and your father who was driving when you were between the ages of 9 and 10 on the 24th of October.”

 

“How the bloody hell do you know that?” asked John confused and angry at this strange man who rattled off some of the most traumatic points in his life with no more emotion then if he had been reading the dictionary.

 

“I am your soul mate John. I was 6 years old and I was treated several times to your rather explicit nightmares about your car accident in my own sleep. As for your injury, I had been in the middle of a very important interview when I was seriously inconvenienced by a sharp pain in my left shoulder. Please do not get shot again, it is rather uncomfortable for me.

 

John stared slack jawed at the man who was now explaining how he had deduced the rest of the information from his posture and the scratches on the phone.

 

“My name is Sherlock Holmes, and the address of the flat is 221B Bakerstreet. Be there tomorrow at 6pm.” Sherlock winked and in one fluid motion was out the door riding crop in hand.

 

“What the bleeding hell...” John looked at Mike.

 

“I never thought you were gay John.” Mike smiled fully enjoying John's amazement.

 

“But...He..... How....”

 

“Sherlock is a complete nut. I thought he was a Forgotten but going by the fact that he felt you get shot.....Well you will have an interesting life with him.” Mike smirked

 

“Who said I was going to share a flat with him?” John asked suddenly remembering Sherlock's parting words.

 

“Well he is your soul mate John.... and your welcome for introducing him to you.”

 

Exasperated, John ignored Mike and glanced at his wrist just in time to see the faint outline of his last bar disappear leaving a blank spot on the wrist that had once held 33 bars.

**Author's Note:**

> I mentioned a practice that resembles cutting. I do not mean any offence nor am I taking liberties with cutting. I do not mean any harm by it and I hope no one is offended.  
> Also this story was inspired by the brilliant fic going around on tumblr under the post about having digital numbers counting down to the moment you met your soulmate. I tried my own take on the idea, I hope you enjoyed it. ( my internet is really bad otherwise I would put that URL here)
> 
> Also thanks to my beta who is awesome.


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